My own
relationship with the property began in 1990. Disenchantment
with the frenetic pace of life in the northern tier of the state, and a
bout of emotional restlessness caused me to seek the quiet refuge of
this pleasant setting on the banks of the Delaware River. Having spent
the early part of my life living in a small New Jersey town, and later
on in New York City, I appreciated the convenience of having the
staples of life within walking distance. And both bars at the NATIONAL HOTEL were just a
matter of a short stretch of the legs. Depending on
the season, or perhaps my mood, I could choose the subtle elegance of
the upstairs taproom or I could retreat to the rustic confines of the Rathskeller Pub. And if I found
myself conflicted by my usual mercurial
and indecisive disposition, I could go on a pub crawl without ever
leaving the building.
FRENCHTOWN HAS AN UNDENIABLE
CHARM
WITHOUT BEING CLOYING
What is probably the most striking fact about the NATIONAL HOTEL is
that exists within the boundaries of the Garden State. Surviving stage
coach stops and restored nineteenth century inns are commonplace
throughout New England and the surrounding Mid Atlantic region; but the
nature of commerce and development in New Jersey has left only a
handful of these significant properties intact. And like so many other
storied locations, the NATIONAL was on the brink of
being lost to the
pages of history and the fond memories of loyal patrons. In March of
2008 it was closed, the victim of the stark economic realities facing
the nation.
Since 1850 this venerable institution had been a dependable source of
safe haven and hospitality. It had survived fire, floods, the Crash of
29 and the crash of a truck through its front door in 84. Lovers had
gathered here to toast new beginnings, lifelong comrades would drink to
those that had passed, and generations of young men would raise a
parting glass before leaving to face fire at Antietam, the Argonne,
Guadalcanal, Incheon, Khe Sanh and countless other battlefields.
Needless to say, its closing, as well as its reopening, would have a
profound and palpable effect on the community.
On Tuesday, November 3rd, 2009 while the voters of New Jersey were
electing a new governor, the citizens of Frenchtown were
embracing
an
old
friend.
At approximately 2:00 pm Eastern Standard Time the first
two official customers were hoisting their celebratory bottles of
domestic lager at the Rathskeller Bar. Throughout the
rest of the day
and into the late hours of the night a steady stream of former regulars
and town’s people stopped by to get reacquainted, and to express their
heartfelt gratitude to Pete and Marie D’Costa, the couple responsible
for the recovery and revitalization of the property. The event felt
much more like a church supper than a restaurant opening, and therein
lies the beauty and magic of the place.
KIM
PHILLIPS
WITH
CAP
AND
HENRY
WEAVER
ATTEND THE REBIRTH
At some point in between pints I recalled a bit of my own bar stool
musings, words that were used to define the quality of tavern life in
an editorial published in first issue of this magazine.
“The worth of a public house is measured by the efforts of its patrons,
owners and staff to establish a space that welcomes everyone as equals
and treats all who enter with the same regard and respect. It is a
community that provides comfort, wise counsel and camaraderie. It is
the family front porch of a bygone era, and the parliament of the
common man.” –
In Frenchtown . . . it
is THE NATIONAL HOTEL
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THE HEARTH AND WOODSTOVE
DOWNSTAIRS IN THE RATHSKELLER
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